


Day 13 - Party

by rainofgrenades



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [13]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desire, Drunk Sex, M/M, Making Out, Memories, Party, Shameless Smut, Sheith Month 2017, Smut, a bit of pda, late post, made up planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainofgrenades/pseuds/rainofgrenades
Summary: “We’re drunk?” he didn’t mind his bad phrased sentence, because the Red Paladin eyes were shining, wet with excitement and poison.“I ain’t drunk since…the Kerberos assignation party?”Keith groaned, landing on his chest after some trembling steps, and looked at him from down there, black hair hiding the lust he shamelessly shaped into his next words.“The night you fucked me to the stars.”





	Day 13 - Party

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly filling all the prompts, because I want to ignore my duties /winks  
> Fanarts for my #SheithMonth fics by: space-mull3t.tumblr.com

**S** omething was off with the drinks, Shiro was sure about that. They never tasted like that, not in the dozens of celebrations in which they already took part every time they set another planet free from the Galra merciless hand, and they never made the room seem so confusing.  
It was supposed to be a nice, easy party, with Allura lovingly chatting with the newfound King of Verlejn, and the Paladins sharing adventures and smiles with the too many, curious inhabitants.  
  
Problem is, Allura actually was the only one sticking to the plan.  
  
Shiro groaned, brain rolling on itself and his hand dangerously trying to slip far from where he was resting against the smooth dark blue wall, silently swearing against the things he drank until then. They were delicious. And to be honest, he had a lot of them.  
  
From his unstable point of view, he could see Hunk staring into his glass, eyes lost in calculations and brows furrowed in concern, meaning he probably had fewer drinks than his leader.  
  
Shiro shifted a bit, moving a step forward, and Lance wasn’t far from the Yellow Paladin, a smile as big as his face while he was literally leaning on one of the King’s wives, lovingly talking about _whatever_. No one seemed to mind it, probably culture acceptance or common sense.  
  
Pidge was sitting on the ground, patting a weird statue and talking to it, or maybe to herself, while a group of child observed her and run between the other figures sculpted in what looked like jam, almost replaying the battle Voltron fought less than two hours ago, little Galra soldiers against little Paladins of Voltron.  
  
Instead, the actual Paladins of Voltron, still wrapped in their shining armors and subjects of amused glances by the Verlejnes, were hopelessly, embarrassingly and completely drunk.  
  
Many pieces were missing to the general situation, at least inside Shiro’s head, but one stood up out of the blue. _Keith_.  
Keith wasn’t endlessly talking with a farmer, or broodingly propped up against a wall. He simply wasn’t there.  
  
The boy’s name run out of the Black Paladin’s mouth before he could stop it, understanding in a late and sloppy way that it was useless to call someone you weren’t aware of the distance.  
But it apparently worked.  
  
“Hey, Sir” Keith’s voice was nothing like his. It wasn’t a bit drunk, it wasn’t uncertain; it was sickening, in the way that shot a shiver down Shiro’s spine, like it was made of fingers tracing his hips.  
“Are you trying to keep that wall up with those wonderful biceps or are you feeling like shit? I’ll take the latter for myself” Keith was so much higher than he was.  
  
Shiro slowly turned, armored back clunking against the blue stones, eyes tracing out Keith so deep he felt like falling face first on the ground. But it didn’t happen.  
“We’re drunk?” he didn’t mind his bad phrased sentence, because the Red Paladin eyes were shining, wet with excitement and poison.  
“I ain’t drunk since…the Kerberos assignation party?”  
  
Keith groaned, landing on his chest after some trembling steps, and looked at him from down there, black hair hiding the lust he shamelessly shaped into his next words.  
“The night you fucked me to the stars.”  
  
Shiro’s stomach twisted, blood flowing from the memories in his brain until he could sense it between his legs. He could remember it, the way in which Keith almost begged him to love him until morning, tears and sex and aftercare and more sex; the way in which they pushed against one another, moaning each other’s names; the way in which Keith screamed, covered in sweat, arms up high over his head and back arching and shaking in the orgasm.  
  
“You remember” Keith’s tongue mewls on his neck, a hand openly grabbing the erection Shiro apparently grew in less than three seconds. Or more. How did time even work?  
“I never forgot. I always wanted you like that since that day, since you were gone. I want you to fuck me again, Shiro, _please_ , make me forget my name” those words were like honey sticking to Shiro’s face, to his suit covered skin, to his mind and thoughts.  
  
He gave in to the overwhelming sweetness, letting his head fall forward and finding Keith’s full lips, mouths open in the worst making out session ever. It was slow, messy, deep and demanding, hands increasing arousals or wandering on the black fabric until Keith moved away, breath still warming Shiro’s wet lips.  
  
“Come, Shiro” he was smiling, dark and wonderful promises as he took his hand and walked to the dimly lighted hall, and the older Paladin could do nothing but follow, brain filled with the shape of his lover’s collarbones, or with the taste of his skin, or with the tone of his pleadings, forgetting of the fact that the Verlejnes could have seen them.  
  
He followed until Keith stopped and pushed him in a small chamber, armors falling to the ground without Shiro remembering getting rid of them, and the suits got the same fate.  
Then, Keith was naked, laying on the cold stone table separating the room, arms pulling Shiro onto him and moaning without shame, tongue burning on Shiro’s one, on his skin, inside his very core.  
“I need you. Please. _Please, Shiro, fuck me_.”  
  
A corner of Shiro’s conscience knew they should not do it. Not without preparation, not when drunk.  
But his index and middle finger were already inside Keith’s mouth, who eagerly sucked on them, covering them in what should have worked as a lube tonight. Shiro could hear himself pant, hips moving against Keith even when those same fingers got inside the boy, both of them making nasty sounds between kisses and bites.  
  
The next _please_ worked like an order on him, not a request. His dick obeyed, getting inside the tight hole with a muffled cry from his owner, flesh and stone walls pulsating around him like the first time.  
  
Keith was crying just like that time, but they didn’t stop, just like that time. Shiro thrust, adjusting his lover’s legs to get in deep, his name filling the air when he reached the spot that always drove Keith insane. It was exactly like years ago. Keith really was waiting for this, Keith really wanted this.  
  
When the orgasm hit them many thrusts later, Shiro loosely fell on the body under his, both of their breaths slowly relaxing.  
They were supposed to get dressed, to go back to the party and pretend it never happened. Pretend they were good friends, pretend to not fuck anytime they could.  
But Keith whispered again, low and in love and high as hell, and Shiro could do nothing but obey again, mouths closing one another in a celebration that was nothing like the one in the other room.


End file.
